I readily admit that I have sympathy for any regular person who bears an inordinate resemblance to a famous person. Through no fault of their own, they walk through life being judged on what they are not (the famous person), rather than what they are (a working stiff who is sick of being told he looks like Jim from “The Office.”)

Say you're a Starbucks employee who looks almost like Channing Tatum. That means you're probably a good-looking guy; but to customers, you'll always be "the guy that's not quite as good looking as Channing Tatum." Because if you did look like Channing Tatum, you wouldn't be working at Starbucks. (Take this from a guy who has lived his adult life as "Chubby Keanu.")

In politics, there also are instances where the replica simply can't live up to the original. One of the primary questions about Donald Trump's hostile takeover of the Republican Party is whether "Trumpism" as a philosophy is transferrable to Trump's acolytes, or whether the entire phenomenon rests on Trump's singular force of personality.

Fortunately for the GOP, one race in Wisconsin is demonstrating the latter to be the most likely case. Next Tuesday, Speaker of the House Paul Ryan faces a primary challenge from a Trump-inspired candidate, businessman Paul Nehlen. Earlier this week, Trump himself tweeted support for Nehlen, and many of the popular alt-right figures backing Trump also are campaigning on Nehlen's behalf.

Yet on Tuesday, Nehlen almost certainly is going to be routed by a margin that would embarrass the U.S. Men's Olympic Basketball team. While Nehlen shares both Trump's protectionist, anti-trade views and his thirst for mass deportation of illegal immigrants, Nehlen has none of Trump's personality or bravado. He's just an ill-tempered bigot masquerading as a new Republican.

On Wednesday, Nehlen actually suggested an openness to banning all Muslims from the United States — far beyond even Trump's wrongheaded plans to stop Muslim immigration to America. In an unhinged 39-part Twitter disquisition on Thursday, Nehlen said that Ryan's "behavior and his associations are a disgrace," and that Ryan's actions "constitute borderline treason." Nehlen has frequently accused Ryan of supporting "open borders," which he believes will lead to an influx of terrorists. (Nehlen has "liked" tweets with pictures of Ryan sporting a Taliban-style beard.)

In June, Nehlen actually flew the mothers of four children allegedly killed by illegal immigrants to Ryan's hometown, bringing them to Ryan's home to confront him with pictures of their dead children. It was a stunt the Janesville Gazette called "particularly despicable," as Nehlen accused Ryan of personally causing their deaths by not doing enough to strengthen immigration laws.

But Ryan's impending destruction of Nehlen should bring Republicans hope that they can stitch the party back together in a post-Trump era. This currently seems impossible — Trump is the unfortunate neck tattoo that most Republicans are going to try to get lasered off after this year. But when Nehlen gets crushed, it will be a signal that Republicans this year were reacting to Trump, and not Trump's policies. Take all the same issues and put them in the hands of someone without The Donald's rhetorical flourish, and they wilt under the summer heat.

Of course, it's possible the converse is also true — perhaps it's Ryan who is the singular talent immune to the poisonous effects of Trumpism. Nehlen picked the wrong guy to mess with — Ryan has an 84% favorability rating among Republicans in his own district, and is currently the most popular political figure in Wisconsin. Ryan's noteworthy allies also have rushed in on his behalf, with Gov. Scott Walker saying he's "100% with" Ryan. On Friday, Speaker of the Assembly Robin Vos ripped into Trump, writing that Vos is "embarrassed that he’s leading our ticket."

If the Ryan-Nehlen race is any indication, the Trump virus isn't contagious — it is quarantined within its Orange Patient Zero. Trump's henchmen are likely to have all the odiousness but none of the charm. And while Paul Nehlen has been able to milk his Trump connection for a blip of fame, his clock currently stands at 14 minutes, 59 seconds.